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I cried so much I thought I would turn into a river or a fountain...
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“and out of light a dove is born—”
—
y nace de la luz una paloma:
Pablo Neruda, tr. Alastair Reid, “In Praise of Ironing”
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“I have the moan of doves and the feather of ecstasy.”
— Allen Ginsberg, from Death To Van Gogh’s Ear (via violentwavesofemotion)
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Chrsitina Rossetti - All Thy Works Praise Thee, O Lord
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“And those were days of roses, poetry and prose.”
— Tom Waits, from the song “Martha” (via billowy)
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“— the incense of those slumbering roses —”
— Edgar Allan Poe, from To Helen, 1848.
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“I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me.”
— Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
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“Today my winged horse is coming and I am carrying you off to the moon and on the moon we will eat rose petals.”
— Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle (via brooklynreads)
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“Have you been eating rosebuds again? Where do your cheeks get their blush?”
— “Bright Star” (via okayodysseus)
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“I could cry for roses, thinking of you, thinking of your lips, so like roses,”
— Carl Sandburg, from The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg; “They Met Young,”
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“Your pillows are made of violets and your bed of roses, night after night I’ve longed for you,”
— Nikos Kazantzakis, tr. by Kimon Friar, from Modern Greek Poetry; “The Death of Odysseus,”
(via lilyelune)
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“I raise my cup and invite The moon to come down from the Sky. […] I raise my cup and ask The branches, heavy with flowers, To drink with me.”
— Su Shi, from Moon, Flowers, Man; One Hundred Poems from the Chinese (tr. by Kenneth Rexroth)
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Simone Weil, “Chance” (trans. Emma Craufurd), Simone Weil: An Anthology
[Text ID: “Stars and blossoming fruit-trees: utter permanence and extreme fragility give an equal sense of eternity.”]
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“A star-shower of blossom, of dew-like pearls, fruitfulness, beauty, life, rapture and fragrance.”
— Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
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“Stars come, a rose of stars, perfumed, circle of winds,”
— Muriel Rukeyser, from The Collected Poems; “The Cruise,” wr. c. 1968
(via violentwavesofemotion)
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“With stars in her eyes and veils in her hair, with cyclamen and wild violets —”
— Virginia Woolf, from To the Lighthouse (via loveage-moondream)
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